


It's Raining, It's Pouring

by GiveMeTheGay



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Post-City of Bones, Simon getting kidnapped yet again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:30:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6282835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiveMeTheGay/pseuds/GiveMeTheGay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon Lewis hated the rain.</p><p>He hated the way it snuck under any layer he put on. He hated the way it dripped down his spine, pooling at his lower back. He hated its insistent attack on his hair, turning it from a perfectly dry bird’s nest to a slick, flat cropping.</p><p>-</p><p>Or the one where Raphael doesn't appreciate his fledgling's comments or his neglect towards himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Raining, It's Pouring

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic as you can probably tell. The lack of posts in the Saphael tag pushed me out of procrastination and into writing this. Well, I should have been finishing my History homework, but no matter.

Simon Lewis hated the rain.

He hated the way it snuck under any layer he put on. He hated the way it dripped down his spine, pooling at his lower back. He hated its insistent attack on his hair, turning it from a perfectly dry bird’s nest to a slick, flat cropping.

Well, maybe he used to hate it. Now he didn’t feel it as much. He didn’t register it’s freezing trickle down his body now that his body was a block of ice itself. Sometimes he even welcomed it, grateful that the liquid that drenched his face and ran down his chin wasn’t blood, but something normal, something that used to irritate him before everything had changed.

He pondered these thoughts before pushing them away into a dark crevice in his mind clearly labelled ‘Nostalgia - Take Care’. It didn’t matter anymore, he had to suck it up and take it.

Ha. Suck it up. Simon chuckled, briefly appreciating his vampiric pun before quickly realising that a hooded figure giggling randomly to itself on a soaked, deserted street didn’t look exactly normal. Not that anyone was there to notice; it was a bitter and wet Thursday evening where everyone had decided to opt for the sane option and stay snuggled up at home. Simon didn’t have a home anymore, seeing that his mother had decided that she no longer had a son. Perhaps a 40 year old Jewish woman hadn’t been the best choice to open up to about his new-found immortality. And the fangs.

Simon huffed out a breath, absentmindedly flicking his tongue over the stumps of bone which could morph into razor-sharp blades at any moment. Clary was busy with Jace and her comatose mother, battling the pressures that should never have been placed on her. He couldn’t go to her and dump some more worries onto her already heavy shoulders. No. He would find something else.

He eyed a desolate coffee shop opposite him, wondering if it had an alarm and how quickly he could rip its wires out before it alerted any law enforcers. He could spend the night there, ignoring his aching thirst, and then leave in the morning before the owners arrived. He was about to step forward towards it when a rather tight, unwelcome hand wrapped around his shoulder, preventing him from going anywhere.

‘Breaking and entering now? I never would have thought that this newfound vampirism would turn you into a common criminal.’

Simon groaned loudly, not caring if it went against any rules of vampiredom to blatantly disrespect your sire. Peering to the side made his already dark mood blacken even further. Pale fingers gripped his shoulder blade whilst dark eyes fixed on his face.

‘Raphael. Great. My favourite bloodsucker.’ Simon retorted with a roll of his eyes and a vicious glare at the hand still holding his arm.

Raphael’s smirk thinned. 

‘Show me a little respect. I did save your worthless life after all.’

‘Well we all make mistakes don’t we,’ came the sarcastic response, ‘Maybe, if you hadn’t been so fang-happy with my neck, we wouldn’t even be in this situation. Maybe you should admit to yourself that you have, completely and spectacularly, fucked up.’

Simon stepped away, aiming to shake off the grip on his shoulder, already resolute in his decision to break into the cafe. He almost collapsed to the pavement until his knees began to protest and begin to push up. The fingers on his arm had turned into iron, unyielding on his skin, bruises forming and then healing instantly. The force Raphael was exerting onto his shoulder had forced Simon into a half crouch, and was clearly about to overpower his weak resistance at any second.

‘You know,’ Raphael said conversationally to Simon’s furious expression, ‘if you had been eating properly you might have been able to put up an actual fight.’

‘You condescending dick, let me up right now and I’ll show you an ‘actual fight’’

Simon had no idea how he was going to follow through this threat if Raphael listened, considering that he found walking briskly an arduous task at the moment, but in the end it didn’t matter; Raphael’s hand had whipped up and dragged Simon up against a wall by his neck. Simon lashed out with his legs and elbows but they made no impact on Raphael’s cool, unruffled demeanour as he pushed Simon’s head to the side. Simon had a sudden sickening thought that Raphael was about to fasten his fangs onto his neck and drink. When nothing sharp impaled his throat, he risked a look back to the vampire. Or tried to anyway; the firm hold on his head prevented him from any movement whatsoever. The lack of freedom made Simon feel horribly vulnerable, he couldn’t see Raphael from this position, couldn’t watch the expression on his sire’s face. It gave him nothing to work with, no warning to Raphael’s mood or behaviour. 

It suddenly struck Simon that the position he was currently in made his whole body scream submissiveness. With this thought in his head, Simon began to fight against Raphael’s grip once again, desperately trying to hide the broad expanse of bare neck on display. After a few minutes, Simon’s already frail strength drained away completely, leaving him hanging limply against the smooth hand holding him up. This had obviously been what Raphael had wanted. Probably, Simon thought bitterly, some sort of peacock display of vampire strength. He heard Raphael draw his free hand into his jacket and bring something out. He flinched as the hand holding his neck began to massage the muscles of his throat. The sound of something plastic being thrown down the alley and the glimpse of something long and silver out of the corner of his eye warned Simon of Raphael’s next move. 

He clawed at Raphael’s hand weakly as Raphael shushed him and pressed the tip of a needle into a vein in his neck. The plunger was pushed down and Simon fell, not into a black puddle on the ground like he had expected, but into the strong, hard chest of his sire. Before Simon could remark sarcastically that he seemed to be trapped in the cover of a cheesy romance novel, blurred darkness overtook him.


End file.
